Explosive Finish
by VolumeControl
Summary: Joker x Harley EXPLICIT. Bondage, mind-break, sado-maso, Smut but also kind of cute. Sexy, inspired by Suicide Squad If you liked A Happy Ending, you'll love this.


As Harley Quinn opened her eyes she knew she was in trouble. Not robbing a bank kind of trouble, not the police kind of trouble, not even the Batsy kind of trouble. No, as consciousness returned to her, Harley Quinn felt a deep-seated fear pervade her mind. The growing fear redoubled as she tried to move her arms and legs and found herself chained to a slab of metal, laid horizontal. She drew from her repertoire of experience in escapes, and, with very little effort freed one of her hands. As she struggled to undo the remaining restraint on her other wrist, bound more securely somehow, Harley noted she was wearing her old costume. With that, the final piece fell into place. The situation became crystal clear. There was only one who would, only one who _could_ catch her off guard enough to drug her and dress her in her old costume and that was none other than

"Mister Jay!" Harley exclaimed as the Joker stepped into the light surrounding the slab of metal he had restrained her to. It was not altogether an unfamiliar setup. They had played games like this before, though none that she remembered with particular fondness. The Joker entered her sight from just above her right shoulder, so she had to strain her neck to look up at him. It was the subtle sort of manipulation he was fond of, even if he never realized it himself. It had to do with power more than anything, but even having it used against her, Harley couldn't help but find it alluring.

"How _have_ you been _Harley_ , my sweet? It's been a _while_ ," the Joker finished with a chuckle.

"It's been lonely without ya, puddin'" Harley said, defaulting to the accent and antics she couldn't help but use around him. Unscrupulous as his expressions were, with his face cast in that rictus smile, Harley had studied him long enough to read his face. She could see his satisfaction at the resurgence of her old accent. The Joker grinned ever more devilishly as he crossed the room in front of her, crossing his hands behind his back. Upon seeing her hand freed from the restraints the Joker wagged a finger at her and clicked his tongue in a disapproval.

"Naughty naughty, little Harley, we haven't had a chance to play. I can't have you leaving just yet. Be a _dear_ for me and _stay_ a while," he said, an inflection on the last words which added an extra vehemencethat made a shiver run up Harley's spine.

Reluctantly, hesitantly, almost as though she were fighting herself, Harley Quinn lifted her freed hand from the operating table and placed it with her other, the chains clinking. The Joker chuckled, and the chuckle peaked to a laugh, which came to a crescendo in his characteristic, enigmatic cackle. He turned and approached the table, and, without breaking stride, he advanced on top of the slab until he stood with his feet on either side of her waist, intimately close.

Intimate by the Joker's twisted perceptions, anyway.

The Joker looked at her expectantly, his shoulders still moving with a laugh that has gone silent. Harley felt a touch of apprehension. Maybe, just maybe this will be one of the good times, one of the memories that she can hold to when things aren't as… peachy.

"Harley," he began, drawing out her name and twisting it in that way that made her curse his name, "Harley my dear, my _Sweet_ , I'm disappointed, haven't you noticed? I've made some changes to your costume. Something with a little more _splash,_ a little more… _weight_?"

Gimmicks were, well, an innate part of his character. An essential twist on the creature the Batman has made him into. Since that night, all that time ago, when she'd first broken him out of Arkham, he'd insisted on incorporating little… games into the time they spent together. At first they'd been exactly what she'd been looking for, chains and blindfolds which added a spice that thrilled her in ways she'd never been thrilled before, something comparable to going skydiving for the first time. But after a while he'd grown distant, more turbulent, more disturbed and their games had followed suit. She still had scars from some of their later endeavors…

So it surprised her little, that as she strained to look down at her costume, she found her chin obstructed by something. Upon realization that this was the change to which he'd been referring, Harley slowly brought down her free hand to feel around the object. Her fingertips traced hard lines. Her eyes widened and her stomach lurched as her mind made the connection. The Joker laughed again from his vantage point over her.

"Jokey baby, puddin', what's this?" She smiled helplessly, eyes crinkling in concern.

"Oh Harley, I wish you could _SEE FOR_ yourself. Heheh, get it? See for? C4!" He laughed again "I designed a device" he paused, bending in closer, "with enough explosive power" he kneeled over her, placed his knee between her legs, "to blow that pretty little head of yours," his face was right in front of hers "clean off."

Harley forced a smile to spread across her face. She brought her hand up to his neck, and ran her fingers through his green hair. This sort of thing would be a joke from anyone else, but paradoxically, coming from her Jokey it was deadly serious.

"That sounds like a helluva _bang_ ," she said, arcing her back against the slab. She moved her hips so the crotch of her Harlequin costume rubbed against his shin. He raised his hand to her face, the back of his gloved hand slid down the side of her cheek, and came to rest at her chin. He chuckled again.

The Joker ran the back of his hand down the exposed side of her midriff, came to where her costume started, retreated to just below her breast, and with his index finger traced the fine contours of her body. As she shuddered in pleasure she couldn't help but think of the implications. As she watched him look down at her body hungrily, she could easily imagine that hand, moving with the same loving care, a scalpel clutched between his fingers. It would not have been the first time.

He seemed to realize this, likes it, is intoxicated by it. Harley cursed herself for melting like this again. Her love for the Joker is strong, and no matter how much she hates him, detests the things that have been done to her, even wants to kill him, her personality still fades out in his presence. And the thing she hated herself most for, is the way she loves fading out like this again and again.

He slid his hand under the top of her costume, something roughly equating a bra, moving with a delicate flair, and slipped his fingers over the top of her breasts, tracing with a gloved hand around her right nipple. Harley's mind started to buzz as her nipple hardens. In an instant, he whipped a knife across the bridge of the top, severing it into two parts, without so much as a scratch on the skin below. Her back arced again at his display of power and control, and she moved her hips against his shin again. She felt the hotness between her legs ratchet up a notch as her skintight costume let her feel everything.

The knife disappeared into the folds of the Joker's clothing once more. To her disappointment, he removed his leg from her crotch, moving it to her side, in a plank position over her. His hands found her breasts again, teased softly at first, letting her feel every soft caress. She quivered, his touches programming, calibrating her nerves an intense hypersensitivity. And then, the dam breaks.

He is upon her luscious breasts with a monstrous fury. He tugged and grabbed, and Harley Quinn began to hump the air, wanting desperately for him to continue, to focus on more intimate parts of her, to make her feel whole again. He moved his face in close, his soft breath providing a contrast to his rough fondling. The aroma of him drifted up to her nostrils, a sweet smell, with undertones of gasoline, blood, and bleach melding to create a musk she knew no other could ever mimic. His groping stepped up another level, and he began to suck on her nipples, tongue swirled a furious rhythm around them. He bit her then, hard, and the sudden pain made Harley cry out in ecstasy.

He continued to work on her breasts, and slid one hand down, her stomach moving upward to eagerly meet his touch as he undoes her belt. He stopped and flashed her an intense smile, and she, in impatient desire, tried to move her groin up to his hand, so his hand would touch her where she wanted him most. He denied her this pleasure, of course.

"Nuh uh, little Harley," he intoned, "Not yet."

"But puddin' _please,_ I'm goin' crazy," she punctuated her sentence by raising her hips up, desperately trying to get his hand where she wanted it. He grinned, ever more devilishly. He undid her pants, the zipper that split the line of crimson and ebony patches of her costume parting easily. She noted that when the Joker had dressed her, he hadn't deemed panties a part of her costume. Harley wondered briefly if he had gotten a headstart on her while she was unconscious, felt violated for a minute, but the indignation she felt only added to her lust. She jolted against her restraints as he slipped his hand downward, encompassing the entrance to her sex with his gloved hand.

"Mister Jay!" She screamed. The Joker removed his glove with his teeth and brought his hand back home. With his middle and index finger, he lightly encircled her clit, her body wracked with pleasure. He teased her like this for a moment, before his fingers parted her lips, and he traced softly down her soaking wet pussy, in seeming refusal to enter her. Harley's eyes rolled up in expectance, and she drew in a shaky breath.

When his fingers penetrated her into her, her mind goes white. She can't remember if she yelled his name or screamed in inarticulate ecstasy. He slammed his hand into and out of her, over and over, again and again, the rhythm growing with furious intensity as she moaned louder and louder. As she felt his fingers press into her g-spot, his thumb jerked out to rub against her clit once more, and he lightly bit down around her nipple. Harley's mind went blank, pleasure all she knew. He increased speed yet again, impossibly fast and dexterous, and she felt herself climb up to reach a climax, her body shuddering and just as she was about to experience a moment of earth shattering orgasm, he stopped.

"P- Puddin'? K-keep goin', I almos-" He shoved his fingers inside her once more to cut her off. The knife appeared again, and he dragged it from her navel to the top of her pants, only just deep enough to scratch her skin. In the intense, oversensitive state she was in, her body mistook the pain for pleasure and she almost came. As the knife came to the top of her clean shaven pussy, her eyes widened in horror.

He slashed downward, her sex untouched, her costume severed, exposing her to the cold air. As she shifts, she can feel the ass she is so proud of touch the cold metal slab. Harley Quinn laughed nervously, suddenly very aware of her bound hand and her feet.

He straddled her for a moment, his purple slacks bulging, and gave her a look. She knew what it meant. Her one freed hand found its way down to the crotch of his clothes, and she felt him stiffen against her hand. She undid the clasp of his belt and unbuttoned the slacks with a swift, deft movement. She exposed his cock, his large white member stabbing upward into the air, in barely contained lust. The sight of it made her mouth water and her loins ache.

He placed a hand roughly on her head, and moved up her body so he was seated on her chest. He reached down to grab his cock and pressed it to her lips. She graciously allowed him into her mouth and greets his throbbing dick with her tongue, which swirled around his tip. She continued to do this, and brought her hand up to his shaft, letting him in further until she wet the entire length of his cock. She began to stoke it with her hand. She oscillated between tantalizing slowness and hungry swift stokes, her tongue mirroring whatever tempo she used. She felt him stiffen, and all of the sudden she is treated to him grabbing her hair and shoving her head into his crotch, his scrotum tapping against her chin. She surrendered control as he fucked her face. Her exposed sex quivered as he used her for his pleasure, her wet flesh jealous of her mouth.

She cannot breathe; his cock was large enough that it obstructed her breathing. As this continued, he pressed her head against him until her nose touched his abdomen, and she choked, his cock halfway down her throat.

As she gasped, a wet sucking sound, he pulled his length from her mouth. She looked up at him with her puppydog eyes and wiped her mouth with her hand.

"Please Mistah Jay?"

The Joker did not meet her eyes as he slipped downward. Harley Quinn could not tell if he was doing this at her behest, or his own sexual cravings. Or… some other kind of craving… _Maybe it'll be different this time,_ she thinks _,_ her psychiatric degree informing her of her own, delusional, victim mentality.

Regardless, she trembled in heated anticipation as he leveled his cock to point up into her pussy. As she looked down her chin bumped the C4 necklace he'd locked around her neck. He hadn't mentioned it yet, but he would.

"Ready, Harl?" She knew he didn't care if she was ready. She knew he would do something terrible before this was over. She knew it would hurt. But she couldn't help herself. She was putty in his hands, her mind utterly broken and distorted. She just wanted more. She nodded, damning herself.

"One more thing, Pumpkin," he said, viciously, "Before I let you get off, there's something I need you to do for me." He pulled a remote from his pocket, obviously a detonator from the way 'bang' was inscribed on the button. He laughed. "This sets off the little firework show I arranged for us. Once the button is pressed, you have thirty seconds to feel the fireworks in your head before…" He laughed again, the implication clear. "Don't try and sneak one either, I won't let you off before you trigger it."

Of course. This was exactly the sort of game he liked to play. He placed the detonator in her free hand.

She nodded again, submissively, not turned off by the threat on her life. It was what she was used to. Deserved, even.

Her mind jumbled as he thrust into her, his hulking member ripping through her insides. She arced her back again, her head slammed into the cool metal slab with a force that resounded around the room. As he pulled out and thrust back in again, she yelped in pleasure, immediately coming back to the point of almost orgasming. She looked up into his face, his glee apparent, felt his rock-hard dick pound into and out of her. She let out a deep moan, interrupted with every thrust into her pussy. She could feel him throb inside of her, his pulsing member reaching the beginning of her womb, her pussy soaked and dripping onto the table. She can feel herself squeeze against him, her body preparing for a mind-rending orgasm.

He slows down, her climax not permitted until the button was pressed. She harbored no doubts that it was real C4, that her life was actually in danger. When she had calmed enough that cumming was a distance away, he redoubled his speed and rubbed her clit with fervor. She felt her body growing hot, her head pounding into the table with every thrust the Joker made into her.

"Oh- -puddin'- please-" She said, hoping against hope that he'd let her cum. A sadistic laugh was all he answered.

Logically, she knew she shouldn't press it. She also felt the way his thighs moved against her body, touching lightly against her legs, the way his hand expertly caressed her clit in rhythm with his thrusts, she could imagine the feelings he had as he made love the only way he knew how. His cock penetrated particularly deep and her thoughts again turned to the detonator, her orgasm imminent and then he slowed again. She was losing it.

She was brought close again and again, each thrust of her Joker's cock into her flesh made her writhe in pleasure. He must have ruined ten orgasms at least, and showed no signs of stopping. Insanity crept in at the edges of Harley Quinn's consciousness. Pressing the button for 30 seconds of pleasure didn't seem too crazy. It was just a button, not hard to press at all, physically so easy. She toyed with the idea as he ravaged her body some more. He bent over to suckle her breasts, all while maintaining the rhythm of his thrusts and position on her clit.

"Jokey…" She tried, one last time.

"No."

Harley Quinn felt her pussy clench against his cock one more time. She felt the building tension in her body as she struggled for a climax. Each thrust built, faster, harder, an insane tempo to the anthem of insanity and she presses the button, hard, twice, thrice, his cock destroying whatever will she had left.

30…

The Joker laughs and laughs, his thrusts continuing to build the pleasure within her. She moans out his name between haggard breaths.

25…

He doubles his speed, each thrust penetrating deeper and deeper into her, impossibly fast, impossibly deep. It feels like she's breaking.

20…

His intense and furious pounding is brought a devastating crescendo, her body shuddering, shivering, shaking and she feels herself go over the edge.

15…

She can feel the countdown drawing to a close but she doesn't care, the feeling is overridden by the anticipation of the waves of pleasure soon to come.

10…

Harleen Quinnzel orgasms, her body giving in, her life already forfeit and she quivers as she feels herself spasm around his cock, which is stiffening further in response to her own pleasure. The feeling of him still thrusting increases her orgasm exponentially and she feels him climax inside of her as well, the hot sticky sensation of his seed filling her up and she quivers yet again. Adrenaline courses through her body in an insane mix of pleasure and fear and this is it, the final moments, her body wracking with pleasure, her heart beating a thousand miles an hour, 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

"I love ya puddin'!"

The Joker walks away from the operating table, his Harley's lifeless body still bound there. He looks at her face, peaceful as she sleeps, whole, though thoroughly spent in their play. The live C4 is still strapped around her neck, a small timer on the side reading 00:01 as it blinks over and over again. As he walks out of the room, he tosses the cable that had once connected the timer to the bomb around her neck and says:

"Love ya indeed."


End file.
